


Something Shameless

by holdingontoyoufordearlife



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Oral, PWP, that's the entire thing, the entire story is my otp being shameless, there is nothing else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdingontoyoufordearlife/pseuds/holdingontoyoufordearlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old, old PWP for the prompt "Annabeth & Rachel, with friends like these." Morning sex and an ill-timed phone call from Rachel. New stuff is on its way, soon-ish. For now, enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Shameless

Annabeth loves Sundays.

Sunday means waking up late, naked and sprawled on top of Percy or nestled beside him, then running her fingers lazily along his half-hard length until he drifts into consciousness and pulls her on top of him or hovers over her to fuck her into the afternoon. Sundays are tumbling out of bed for breakfast past noon and not caring that all the other respectable grown-ups have been awake for hours. Sunday means fucking on every surface available to them then collapsing on top of one another until he’s ready to go again – or before he is, because she loves that groan he makes that’s both indignant and beseeching when he’s just come and he just wants to feel her weight on top of him until he regains some composure but she is dissatisfied and insistent and gets to work again immediately with her fingers and tongue and teeth until he’s hard again, continuously demanding more and more and _more_ from him.

Someplace distant in the back of her mind, Annabeth knows that there is something she needs to remember, something important that she can’t miss –

But, _oh_. _Fuck_. Percy dips his head between her thighs and his shock of black hair – which currently resembles a bird’s nest – tickles her already swollen clit. Annabeth settles back into the tangled bedclothes, rather enjoying the brush of Percy’s lips across the place where her thigh becomes her hip.

He nuzzles at the crease of her thigh, but her appreciation of Percy’s warm breath against her skin is interrupted by the piercing trill of her cell phone on the nightstand. With groan of annoyance, she snatches up the cell.

“Hel–” she tries, but Percy’s tongue is athletic and right then it moves from her inner thigh to wrap around her clit so her attempted greeting morphs into a strangled gasp. She clear her throat and tries again, “Um, hello?”

“Annabeth, hi. It’s ten thirty.”

“Rachel?” she manages, slightly dazed (his tongue is really athletic).

Rachel gives a long-suffering sigh. “You’re having sex, aren’t you?”

Percy’s laughter rumbles against her thigh.

“I –” Annabeth begins but her mortified mind is blank because _how do you even answer that?_

Then Percy is no longer between her legs and is suddenly kind of on top of her instead, his hand over hers to angle to phone towards him.

“Sure fucking are, Dare. What d’you want?”

“It’s ten thirty,” Rachel repeats.

“Okay. What’s at ten thirty?”

“My exhibition’s today. You both said you’d come.”

“Didn’t you say eleven?”

“I was just checking you were still coming.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“It’s Sunday morning.”

Percy kind of collapses on top of Annabeth then, his shoulders shaking as he laughs, breathless, into her breastbone. Minutes later, when he finally has enough breath in his body to form a whole sentence, he says into the phone, “A necessary precaution, as it turns out.”

“Well, yeah,” Rachel agrees, sounding less than impressed, “You two aren’t the most subtle people I’ve ever met.”

“What are you two talking about?” Annabeth demands, tugging the phone back.

“Rachel?” But it’s Percy who answers, “Rachel knows neither of us works on Sundays.”

“So?”

“And she, ah, knows us well enough to speculate about what we do do on Sunday mornings... when neither of us works.”

“Oh. God.”

“Annabeth, I’m so sorry,” comes Rachel’s rushed response and Annabeth can imagine a pink flush rising in the redhead’s freckled cheeks. “I promise it’s not my fault I know way too much about your sex life. Blame your shameless boyfriend. Actually, it’s your fault as well. You guys are so obvious.”

Annabeth’s shameless boyfriend wrestles the phone from her hand to counter, “It’s not my fault you wanted this Oracle gig and have to live through other people.”

“I feel _dirty_ , Percy Jackson,” Rachel whines.

“So do _I_.”

“Oh, go tell some terrified kid he’s doomed to failure, Oracle Girl,” Percy says into the phone.

“Oh fuck off.”

“Will do. ‘Bye.”

“See you soon. Remember, elev-” Annabeth hears Rachel start to remind them, but Percy’s already hit the _end_ button, tossed the phone under the bed and dipped his head to suck at her collarbone.

“Percy! I can’t believe you. You have no – shame,” she reprimands, but that thing he’s doing with his tongue and his teeth to her throat is interfering with her righteous disapproval so doesn’t sound nearly as outraged as she intends.

“It’s just Rachel,” he shrugs, taking his mouth off her skin – earning himself a reproachful whine – to look down at her, his eyebrows raised.

“But _still_.”

“Chill out, Wise Girl. We have fifteen minutes before we need to leave. D’you really wanna waste it telling me off?”


End file.
